


Temperance

by Orithain, Rina9294



Series: Heavenly Virtues [6]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 21:53:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8177351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orithain/pseuds/Orithain, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rina9294/pseuds/Rina9294
Summary: Temperance is for public view.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted May 2005.

_~ Temperance: moderation and restraint; self-mastery ~_

After a morning spent pouring over Elvish lore, Frodo raised his head from his book and looked across at Sam, who was puttering around putting their hole to rights. Technically Bag End belonged to Frodo, but with the help of Sam’s father, they lived together with no one the wiser.

Frodo’s gaze rested fondly on the tousled, pale brown curls, and he remembered how they had looked against his pillow that morning as he watched Sam sleep. He wanted to reach out now and run his fingers through Sam’s hair, disordering it further, but he reminded himself that he had to think before allowing himself to give in to such impulses or someday he would do it where it would get them in trouble.

As if sensing Frodo’s gaze on him, Sam looked over, one hand holding a dusting rag, the other the small statue he’d picked up to clean. "Something I can get for you, Mister Frodo?" he asked.

Frodo licked his lips, blue eyes wide and fixed on Sam. "I wish I could paint," he murmured, imagining an image of Sam that would be for him alone, but he knew that he would always be able to call up an image of his lover.

"Mister Frodo?" Sam asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What would you want to be paintin’?"

"You of course," Frodo replied, knowing that Sam would blush and looking forward to it.

Sam immediately turned bright red, and his eyes widened. "Me, Mister Frodo? Now then, if you could paint, you should be makin’ pictures of pretty things and whatnot."

"I cannot imagine anything I would rather look at than you, Sam," Frodo murmured, rising to his feet and moving across the room to the other Hobbit.

About to protest this remark, Sam looked up, meeting Frodo’s blue eyes, and stopped, almost immediately lost in their depths. Frodo reached him and rested a hand on his cheek, and he turned his face into the caress, fumbling to set down the statue lest he drop and break it.

"I could spend the entire day just enjoying you," Frodo breathed, "looking, touching, tasting. How did I get so lucky as to have you, my Sam?"

"It’s me who’s the lucky one," Sam muttered, catching Frodo’s hand and pressing a kiss against his palm. "I tell myself that every mornin’, ‘Samwise Gamgee, you’re the luckiest Hobbit in the Shire and don’t you go forgettin’ it.’" He was about to say more when there was a strident knocking at the door. "I’ll be getting’ that, Mister Frodo," he said quickly, giving a small shake as he reminded himself to behave in front of guests.

"Where is that Frodo?" a sharp voice demanded the moment he opened the door, and Sam winced at seeing the sour visage of Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. "I want a word with him!"

Frodo dove headlong over the back of a sofa, hoping his horrid cousin hadn’t seen him and that Sam would manage to lie and tell her he was out. He held his breath, waiting for the shriek that would tell him that she had seen him, and slowly let it out in a silent sigh of relief when it didn’t happen.

"Where is that layabout Hobbit, Master Gamgee?" Lobelia demanded shrilly. "Lazing about in bed in what should be _my_ hole?"

"Not at all, Missus Lobelia," Sam answered, trying to block the door and getting an elbow in his ribs for his trouble when she pushed past him. "He’s..." He stopped when she let out a cry at seeing Frodo. "... out."

"There you are, Frodo Baggins! I want to know why you haven’t answered my invitation!"

Frodo’d known he shouldn’t try to peek around the sofa to see what Lobelia was doing, but he’d done it anyway, and now he was caught. He held in his sigh as he rose to his feet. "Good day, Lobelia. I had not yet answered because I wasn’t sure if I was going to have to be away that day. Now I know, and I shall have to regretfully decline. Now, if that was all?" He tried to steer her to the door, hoping to be rid of her.

Sam stepped back out of the way when Lobelia dug in her heels, halting her forward progress. "And what’s this? Not even a cup of tea to offer me? After I came all this way too..."

"I don’t recall inviting you, Lobelia," Frodo replied shortly. She’d caught him once that way, and he’d learned his lesson. "I’m very busy. Perhaps we can visit another time..." He jarred her loose and managed to get her to the door.

"When?" she asked quickly.

"I’ll send you a letter!" Frodo shut the door quickly, ignoring her squawk of outrage, and locked it. "Quick," he hissed at Sam, "close all the shutters!"

Sam’s eyes were wide, but he did as Frodo ordered.

"Make sure they’re _all_ shut!" Frodo insisted as he ran toward the next room, intent upon making sure that Lobelia was completely shut out. "That woman... I’m sure she’s why Bilbo left the Shire."

"I can’t disagree with you there, love," Sam called from where he was checking the shutters in the other room. "That woman’s a - a, well, I can’t think of what to call her."

"I can but I don’t want to make you blush!" Relieved to find that they were securely tucked into their burrow, Frodo came out of the room and encountered Sam in the hall.

"Mr. Frodo!" Sam exclaimed, turning pink at just the thought of what Frodo might be thinking of calling his cousin. "This feels so odd: locked up in Bag End like a couple of criminals!"

"Think of it as a vacation from nosy relatives," Frodo suggested, sliding his arms around Sam’s waist. "We’re snug in here, together, and not even Merry and Pippin can disturb us just now!"

Sam brightened at that before frowning and looking at the front door. "They don’t have a key, do they?"

"Certainly not! We’d never have a bite of food left in the larder if they did."

"A very good point." Sam grinned and reached out to catch Frodo’s hands, pulling him in for a kiss. "So what should we do with this time alone?"

"I think we should check how sturdy the bed is," Frodo suggested, smiling widely even as Sam’s lips covered his.

"Well, if I’m under you, if the bed collapses, you won’t get hurt," Sam suggested.

Frodo chuckled. "Someday, my Sam, I’m going to distract you enough for you to stop worrying about my safety. In fact, I think that’s going to be my goal for the night. We’ve restrained ourselves in front of every inhabitant of the Shire. It’s time to forget temperance and enjoy ourselves!" He dragged Sam into the bedroom and tumbled them onto the bed.

Sam blinked, then smiled up at Frodo, working his hands under the other Hobbit’s shirt to stroke his back. "That sounds like a fine idea, Frodo."

"An excellent beginning." Frodo sat up long enough to pull his shirt over his head, dropping it heedlessly to the floor where the pale linen puddled against the rich colors of the rug at the side of the bed, neither Hobbit noticing or caring. Frodo tugged Sam’s shirt free of his trousers and leaned over to press a kiss to Sam’s belly.

Unable to help himself, Sam giggled, squirming beneath Frodo even as he tangled the fingers of one hand into his dark hair.

Frodo smiled, loving that seldom heard sound. He nibbled gently on the soft skin, tongue following and tasting Sam as he pushed the shirt higher and higher.

"Frodo..." Sam’s laughter acquired a hungry sound, and he reached for his shirt, tugging it over his head, his arms becoming trapped in the sturdy fabric as he did so.

Catching sight of Sam’s difficulty, rather than helping him, Frodo caught hold of the tangled shirt and pressed it to the bed over Sam’s head, restraining his lover. He licked his lips as he stared down, hips rocking very lightly against Sam’s, his head lowering to scrape his teeth over a hardening nipple.

"Frodo!" Now Sam almost shouted, and he bucked upward, his hardening shaft rubbing against Frodo’s as he writhed.

Frodo liked that reaction. A lot. He treated the other nipple the same way, still restraining Sam with his shirt. "You taste good," he whispered against Sam, tongue lightly tracing patterns on his flesh. "Better than anything."

Sam could only whimper as Frodo teased him, but he did manage to wrap a leg around Frodo’s, rubbing his calf against the other Hobbit’s thigh.

Gradually sliding back down, Frodo demonstrated his ability to unfasten buttons with his teeth, slowly freeing Sam from his pants. He let his teeth graze the rigid shaft, but he didn’t stop despite the almost desperate sounds Sam was making.

"Mister Frodo, _please_!" Sam whined, tearing his hands free of his shirt and reaching for Frodo, stopping himself before he dragged Frodo’s mouth down to his aching erection.

Frodo raised lust-filled eyes to meet Sam’s. "Take what you want," he whispered, moist breath flowing over Sam’s hard cock, teasing the sensitive head.

Sam’s eyes widened, and he froze, swallowing hard before threading his fingers through Frodo’s curls. "Want to feel you," he rasped, guiding Frodo to his shaft and moaning when he felt Frodo’s hot, wet tongue drag over his flesh.

Frodo suckled hungrily on the tip, moaning as he tasted another spurt of fluid. He slowly lowered his head, taking Sam deeper and deeper, and his fist curled around the base, stroking.

"Frodo - oh sweet..." Sam’s fingers tightened on Frodo’s scalp, and he thrust upward, crying out as he came.

Frodo drank him down eagerly, not stopping until he had every drop and Sam was whimpering and trying to squirm away. Only then did he slide up Sam’s body to kiss him hungrily, thrusting against him.

Once the kiss broke, Sam stared up at Frodo with unfocussed eyes. "Now you take what you want," he breathed, wrapping his other leg around Frodo’s as well.

"You, always you." Frodo settled on his knees, one hand fumbling on the nightstand for the jar of oil they kept there. He slid two fingers into Sam, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to wait much longer.

Sam cried out and clutched at Frodo’s arms. Releasing them, he spilled some oil into his hand and stroked it over Frodo’s erection, humming with pleasure at the thought of it inside him.

A strangled moan escaped Frodo as he gritted his teeth, fighting not to come from the touch of Sam’s hand on him. "Need to be in you," he rasped, eyes staring down at Sam almost wildly.

"Yes, now!" Sam all but ordered, bringing his legs up around Frodo’s waist and pulling him inward.

Feeling himself sink into Sam’s yielding body wrenched a heartfelt groan from Frodo. His eyes closed for a moment as he let himself revel in the sensations before opening again so he could watch Sam, wanting the connection of their gazes as well.

Sam smiled and shifted, rocking up and tightening his ass down around Frodo’s shaft as they began to move together, lost in each other.

"Love you," Frodo panted over and over, hips driving back and forth, unable to stop. He caught hold of Sam’s hands, lacing their fingers together, and he clung desperately as they moved, his climax drawing closer.

"Yes," Sam gasped, closing his fingers around Frodo’s hands and kissing him hungrily.

Frodo cried out, the noise muffled by Sam’s mouth, and he drove deep a final time and stilled as he came, shuddering against Sam.

Sam sighed, nuzzling his face against Frodo’s until he calmed, then kissing him again. "Love you so much," he whispered.

"I love you too," Frodo replied, sprawling atop Sam and cuddling close, loving the feeling of Sam’s arms around him. "I could stay right here forever."

"Mmm, that sounds lovely, but we do have other obligations; think of the state the gardens would be in if I never got outside to tend them!"

"But we’d be in here so we wouldn’t see them," Frodo pointed out logically.

"But the Gaffer would and think of what he’d say! Your beautiful gardens..." Sam moaned piteously.

Laughing, Frodo shook his head. "Only you, Sam, could think of your father at a time like this!"

"At a..." Sam blanched. "I wasn’t thinking of him like that!"

"Sam!" Frodo half laughed, half yelped. "I didn’t mean _that_! I just meant... Never mind." He shook his head, chuckling, and pulled Sam into a kiss intended to make them both forget the Gaffer.

Sam sighed and nuzzled Frodo’s neck, breathing in his clean scent. "What was that, Mr. Frodo?" he asked, sounding happily dazed.

"Nothing at all," Frodo murmured, pulling Sam closer with a contented little sigh.


End file.
